


Cinnamon cookies

by Mouse (clandestineAbattoir)



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Alternate Universe - High School, Foster Care, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Past Abuse, Roman and Patton are adults, Thomas logan deceit and virgil are all high school age, established Royality, i warn you when, slow burn analogical, sympathetic deceit, the violence is only in one chapter so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-06
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-05-19 01:09:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clandestineAbattoir/pseuds/Mouse
Summary: Virgil and his twin brother Dee have once again been moved to anew foster home. Their foster father, Patton, seems nice enough, but Virgil is still suspicious of him. Patton works to change that while Virgil works to keep himself in the shadows of his new highschool





	1. Prologue

Virgil stared out of the window of the back seat of the Subaru Forester, watching suburban America pass by in off white stripes, house after house. Another foster home. Another “fresh start.” More like another chance for one of these wack job, unfit foster parents to finally snap and kill either him or his brother, Dee. He was far from excited.

“Now, you two,” Dr. Picani, the social worker that Virgil and his twin brother had come to know and tolerate, glanced at them through his rearview mirror, “this is a new beginning for you guys. I really think this foster parent might be the Greg Universe you have been looking for. No longer will you be the Baudelaire children, despa-”

“Hey, yeah, Doc, you give this speech every time we go to a new foster home, and every time, it ends really badly, so why not skip that bull for once and just tell us who this person is,” Virgil didn’t even look at the bespectacled man. He didn’t, he knew how Picani would react. A slight frown, a worried glance in the reclusive teens direction before just bulldozing and telling them about their new foster parents.

“Well, since you seem so curious-”

“Less curious more fed up-”

“I’m still calling it curious but whatever works for you Virgil-- Your new foster father is a man named Patton Sanders. He’s been doing this for a while, and I have heard that he is very good with dealing with the uh… Lapis Lazuli’s of the system. Probably could have used a better example there but it is too late to backtrack so we are sticking with it.”

_ Problem children.  _ Virgil translated in his head. He and Dee were traumatized problem children. 

“I’m so happy you found someone equipped to deal with wonderful little angels like us,” Dee deadpanned, playing with the rubber snake in his hands absently. 

“Now Dee, you know that’s not what I meant,” Picani attempted some linguistic damage control, although he probably knew there was no backing out of this now, “It’s just that, you two have been through a lot, and that has given rise to some… unique coping mechanisms that not every foster parent is ready to deal with.”

“So I suppose this Patton guy is a level 42 foster parent then,” Virgil snarked, “we’re people, Picani, not video game side quests.”

Virgil didn’t mean to be so testy, it was just that Picani was starting to hit some nerves. Because every time Dee and Virgil would pull up to a new foster home, their new foster parents would be waiting there with stepford smiles and open arms, probably expecting some poor, orphaned kids that they could fix with a hug or two and an “I love you”. Of course, they didn't get that. They got Virgil, the recluse with a fight or flight reflex of an army of cats who didn't hug anyone but Dee and dressed like he was going to a funeral every day, and Dee, the sarcastic brother who only ever said the opposite of what he meant and was extremely overprotective of his twin.

The first few days would always go smoothly. Their new foster parents would seem to be adjusting to the strange habits of their new charges, and Dee would assure virgil that “they were dangerous again” (which, for Dee, meant that they were safe this time), and Virgil would almost start to let himself believe it. 

But then something would break. Either their oh-so-patient new foster parents would get sick of Dee’s convoluted way of talking, or Virgil would have one too many panic attacks for their taste, or some combination of the unique flavor of trauma that the twins experienced would be just “too much to deal with” and Dee and Virgil would have to leave again. At one point, the incidents were so frequent that Virgil had heard Picani muttering that he was “running out of foster parents willing to deal with twins. Virgil had been having nightmares of being separated from his one constant ever since.

Picani was staring at Virgil through the rearview mirror, with an odd sort of look on his face. Not quite a frown, not quite neutral. He had seen that look before. He usually ascribed it to pity. Which Virgil was not a fan of. 

“What are you staring at?” he mumbled, making second-hand eye contact through the mirror momentarily. 

Picani shook his head briefly. “I’m just thinking, Virgil, Maybe you aren’t a Lapis Lazuli, maybe you’re more of a Pearl. You are incredibly independent and protective of Dee. You have been through a lot, but it does take a lot more to get it out of you. And while you do have a strong identity of your own, you do tend to rely on someone, namely Dee, in this case, for that sense of wholeness that your experiences have so desperately left you lacking. Perhaps that is the source of your excessive fear of being separated from your brother.”

“Sorry to see you hate me,” Dee joked briefly as Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Nice try, Doc, but there is a flaw in that parallel. I don’t need Dee to make me feel whole. I need Dee because I’m afraid of what would happen to him if I wasn't there to stick up for him,” he explained.

Pican let out a huff of air and returned his attention mainly to the road.

“Anyway, Patton already has one other foster child. Someone named Thomas. I’ve heard he’s very sweet. I hope you three will get along- ah! Here we are!” Picani pulled into the driveway of a sky blue house, with huge bay windows and a well-manicured front lawn. A man, with sandy brown hair a cardigan tied around his shoulders, the physical embodiment of the dad stereotype. Virgil was already incredibly suspicious. 

“What a dark and stormy night this guy is!” Dee said, somewhat excitedly. 

“Maybe. I don't trust him,” Virgil muttered, much to Picani’s apparent annoyance. 

“Oh come on, Virge, you haven’t even met him yet! How can you be judging him already. You know, I think that's part of your problem,” Picani rambled as he stepped out of the car, helping the two twins grab their things, “you make judgments about people before you’ve even met them, and if you’ve already made the judgement that they’re bad, you refuse to listen to them.”

Virgil groaned. “Will you stop psychoanalyzing me? I have a therapist for that.”

“Sorry, habit,” Picani shrugged, before turning to the smiling man, “Hello, Patton. This is Virgil,” he gestured to the hoodie-clad sixteen year old, “and Dee,” a gesture at his brother. 

“Well hello you two, I’ve been very much looking forward to meeting you! C’mon, lets get your stuff inside, Thomas should be home any minute and I know he’s sure been excited to finally have some new kids his age to talk to!” He gestured them inside, and the interior of the house was just as obnoxiously sunny as the exterior. The front room had insane amounts of sunlight streaming in through the windows. A white coffee table was in front of a sky blue couch, and there was a painting of an idyllic creek hung above a nice TV. Virgil could smell chocolate chip cookies and… Cinnamon?

He crept towards the kitchen quietly, peeking around the corner and seeing two trays of cookies on a slightly messy marble counter. One were regular chocolate chip cookies, but the other, Virgil recognized, were brown sugar and cinnamon.

“Dr. Picani told me the brown sugar cinnamon ones were your favourite,” patton said behind him.

Virgil very nearly jumped out of his skin, whipping around the face the bespectacled father figure, face contorted into a panicked grimace. He gripped the doorway, white-knuckled as he started to attempt to stammer out an apology.

“No, don’t apologize,” Patton cut him off, “you live here now too, you’re allowed to explore. Actually, since you found them, go have a cookie. I was gonna save them for after dinner, but I think you deserve a pre-dinner cookie.” 

Virgil glanced at the tray of cookies, then back at Patton, who was standing there, gesturing towards the tray of cookies encouragingly. He took a deep breath, and stepped fully in the kitchen, placing his feet carefully on the floor as he walked, more out of habit than anything. He grabbed a cookie, letting his hand hesitate before he brought it too his lips and took a bite. It tasted… like home. He took another bite, letting the rich cinnamon and sweet brown sugar rest on his tongue, tears pricking at his eyes, which he quickly wiped away with his hoodie sleeve. 

“Do you liked it?” Patton inquired, a bit of hesitation hovering in his words. Virgil nodded, an the blue polo-ed man broke into a giant grin. So far, so good. But who knew how long that would last.


	2. Chapter 1

It had been a week since Virgil and Dee had begun living with Patton, and things seemed to have been going smoothly. Patton, as well as their foster brother Thomas, had seem to have been adjusting to the strange habits of the Mallory children. Patton had almost gotten the hang of translating Dee’s strange speech on his own, and didn’t seem to mind Virgil’s general nocturnality and reclusiveness. Virgil was suspicious, but begrudgingly happy.

Of course, now it was time for the two to start school again, which Virgil was very much fighting. 

“Now kiddo,” Patton reasoned, “don’t you want to make some friends? Get some fresh air, some sunshine?”

“All of those things sound horrible,” he groaned, taking his head out from under the pillow and looking over at Patton. He was standing just outside the doorway, not making any moves to step in the room, which Virgil appreciated. 

Patton sighed. “Virgil, please? I doubt it’s going to be as bad as you think it will.”

“I doubt that.”

The older man pursed his lips. “If you go to school today I’ll make those cookies you like.”

Virgil considered. He did enjoy the cookies, they tasted like home and brought up memories of times when things were… better. But were they special enough to motivate him to go to school? He glanced at his foster father through haphazard strands of unbrushed purple hair. The poor man looked so hopeful. Virgil kind of didn't want to crush that quite yet. He was the nicest foster parent the twins had had for a long time, and the teen was kind of scared of ruining that. 

“Fine.” 

“Great! Be ready in a half hour and I’ll drive the three of you to school!” he sauntered off cheerily, whistling to himself. How the heck was that guy so damn happy all the time?

Virgil went and closed his door, digging through the bags of clothes Patton had gone out and bought them as a celebration of becoming “part of the family.” He pulled out jeans and a t-shirt, nothing fancy, throwing his old, oversized hoodie on top. He rarely took the hoodie off. It comforted him, like a warm hug without all the suffocation of human interaction. 

Virgil wandered downstairs in order to grab some breakfast, sunlight streaming into his face from the large windows in the hallway. Virgil liked to keep his room dark, so stepping out in the mornings was always a little blinding. On the dining room table, he noticed two backpacks. Weird, he didn’t remember picking one out, but it seemed to be exactly in his taste. 

“I didn’t know what you liked so I couldn’t pick one out for you. Patton thought it would be a despicable gesture,” again, another voice from behind him, causing Virgil to whip around, fight or flight reflex sending all sorts of alarm bells to his brain. Oh, right, just Dee.

“Thanks bro,” he held a fist out for a fist bump, and as they did, Thomas came down the stairs, laughing and smiling brightly. 

“Gooood morning you two,” he greeted. Thomas much more mirrored Patton than the other two did. He dressed in mainly colorful clothing, cartoon t-shirts. Dee was dressed similarly to vigil, a black overcoat and yellow shirt underneath, “are you guys ready for the first day of school?”

“Not at all,” Dee said.

Thomas tilted his head, taking a second to remember that Dee spoke in opposites. 

“So… that… means yes, right?” he turned to Virgil for confirmation, and Virgil nodded. 

“Alright kids, are we almost ready to go,” Patton came down the stairs next, car keys in hand. All three kids made various noises of agreement, and the fatherly man with grey streak in his hair grinned widely. 

“Alright! Let’s go,” he bounced out of the house, and all three teens followed, pilining into Patton’s… Jeep? Somehow, the fact that patton owned a Jeep and not like, a toyota prius or whatever dads drove surprised Virgil.

The ride to school was relatively uneventful. Virgil and Dee stayed quiet, for the most part, and Patton and Thomas rambled to them excitedly about all of the new people they were going to meet and make friends with. Virgil doubted they’d actually make friends, it wasn't like he and Dee were the warmest people ever. Besides, they never stayed in the same school for long.

They pulled up to the school, a moderately sized older building that didn't look too intimidating on the outside. Jumped out of the front seat, and the twins clambered out of the back seat of the Jeep. It was only 7:45, so they had fifteen minutes to find their lockers and get their schedules. Lovely. 

“I’ll bring you guys to the office so you can get all that stuff,” Thomas said, before power walking ahead of them. Thomas seemed to know the twists and turns of that school pretty well, and Virgil couldn't help but wonder how long Thomas had been staying with Patton. It was only October, not that far into the school year. Thomas shouldn't know these hallways nearly as well as he did. He didn't have much time to ponder this, however, as they were already at the main office. The twins and their foster brother walked in. It seemed to be pretty quiet, save for one other boy arguing with one of the administration. Was… that guy wearing a necktie? But he seemed to be Virgil’s age. That was. Strange. But hey, who was he to judge.  

While Virgil was busy watching the stranger, who was apparently arguing that he just “ _ had to be in astronomy” _ Dee and Thomas got their schedules. He was pulled from his contemplation when Dee poked him with the box of a combination lock. 

“Hey, sunshine boy,” Dee’s words pulled Virgil away from his contemplation, “Please, continue staring at this person that we totally know.” 

The boy with the necktie looked over at Virgil, raising an eyebrow at him, and the teen had half a mind whack an elbow into Dee’s ribs, but restrained himself. He settled for mumbling and “I hate you” instead. 

“I’m sorry, is there an issue,” the other teen said, placing a hand on his hip, and a a weight started bearing down on Virgil’s chest.  _ Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfu- _

“Virge, buddy, you okay there?”  Thomas asked and poked his cheek, and Virgil leapt back, trying to find a wall, something, to grab onto and ground himself. 

“Virgil?” Dee. 

“Virge dude, sorry-” Thomas.

He finally made contact with a wall, hands running against cold paint. The walls were bright blue. The necktie that the boy was wearing was dark blue. He rubbed his thumb over the wall. Closing his eyes and imagining water, a shower, it all washing away, the bad memories being pushed away by warm water and down the drain. He could almost feel the water running down his face, funnily enough. Oh, wait, no. Those. Those were tears. Those were most definitely tears. Virgil’s breaths came quick and laboured. The grounding wasn’t working, he still felt like he was floating off, that something was going to happen to him, that someone was going to  _ hurt hi _ \- something just touched his shoulder. 

Almost instantly, he leapt to the side, eyes snapping open wide. The boy with the blue necktie was standing near him, hand still hanging in the air, Dee had seemed to try and wedge himself in between Virgil and the other boy. He couldn't see Thomas.

A new voice entered the conversation. 

“Would- should he go see the counselor?” A short person with bright hair, the one Logan was arguing with before, asked. 

Virgil really did not want to go see a counselor, not on the first day. 

“Yes,” Dee answered for him. 

“Okay, uh, I’ll go ge-”

“Actually,” Thomas cut off mercifully, “he means no. He uh. Speaks in opposites.”

“...Okay.”

Virgil had begun to ground himself, focus on the feeling of his feet on the floor. The feeling of Dee’s body heat as his twin pressed against him. He was here, in the main office of a new school. The floors did not creak ominously here, and the sunlight filled the room, it didn’t creep its way in between holes in the blinds. He was fine. Dee was here, beside him, unharmed. He gripped his twin’s arm, and Dee didn’t say anything, but he did look over at Virgil with an understanding look. The anxiety still pressed heavy against his chest, and the tears the still streamed down his cheeks, but he didn’t feel like he was back in that room anymore. 

“I- uh-” a different voice now. Oh. It was the boy with the necktie. “I… apologize. I was not aware that my actions would cause… such an outburst.” 

“U-uh….” Virgil trailed off. “Apology- apology accepted, I guess.” he breathed out. 

The morning bell went off, startling Virgil a bit. Was it time for class already? Damn. He looked at the schedule that Thomas had handed him at some point. He had creative writing first. Right, creative writing, that was fine. He could do that. 

“Uh… Perhaps I could walk you to your first class. To make up for scaring. That is how being nice works, I think.” It was the boy with the necktie. 

“Oh, uh, yeah, sure.” he shrugged, glancing over at Dee, who almost seemed to be growling. It was a bit funny. 

“What class do you have first?”

“Creative writing.”

“Oh. As do I, unfortunately,” the taller boy pulled a sour face. 

“Don’t like creative writing, huh?” 

“Not in particular. Uh- may I ask your name.”

“Virgil. Or Virge. Whichever one works.” he said.

“Well, it is… acceptable to meet you, Virgil. My name is Logan.”


	3. Chapter 2

Logan led Virgil to creative writing, and they ended sitting in the back of the class together, because that’s where the empty seats were, and because Logan was the only person that Virgil knew. Apparently, the class was working on poetry for their current unit. Virgil could deal with that. He… had dabbled in it before. Dr. Picani had told him to try it, because it “might be a good way to get your feeling down on paper without that journaling that you seem to be so vehemently against.”  
The teacher in the front of the class, whom Logan informed him was a man named Mr. Remy, began the class.  
  
“Now, y’all,” he took a sip of the starbucks that he had in his hand, “I want you to really put some effort into this first project. I know, I know, poetry can be painful but I think this will be good for you guys. Get some feeling down on that paper.”  
Right. Because Virgil was totally going to “get some feeling” down on a paper that he was going to hand in to a teacher he didn't know. He’d take the F on this project, thanks.  
  
“There is one thing, though. You aren’t writing about yourself. You will be writing an ode to an object. It can be anything. A book, a trash can, cup of coffee,” he paused to gaze longingly at his Starbucks cup, sending a ripple of laughter through the class, “but seriously, it could be anything. Before we get started on that, we’re going to be reading an example of this called ‘Ode to My Socks’ by Pablo Neruda.”  
  
Mr. Remy handed out the poems, and they read. Virgil supposed he liked the poem. It was a little odd, he guessed. They spent the rest of the class brainstorming and writing. Virgil decided that would write about Cinnamon cookies.  
The rest of his classes until lunch were uneventful and nerve wracking. He didn't have anyone he knew. He guessed Dee, Thomas, and Logan all had different classes. When lunch came, he walked to the cafeteria nervously, shoulders drawn in, head looking at his own scuffed combat boots. He didn’t get a lunch, he wasn’t hungry, really. He looked around the cafeteria for a face he recognized.  
  
“Hello Virgil. I see we have the same lunch,” he turned around and- yup, it was Logan, “would you like to sit with me. You do not have to, but I figured I would offer.”  
  
“Oh, uh,” Virgil glanced around one more time for Thomas and Dee, but when he failed to find them, he nodded, “sure, why not.”  
  
The two wandered to a quieter corner of the cafeteria, pretty much away from anyone else, and sat.  
  
“How come you did not get lunch?” Logan inquired.  
  
“Wasn’t hungry,” he shrugged.  
  
“It is still beneficial to eat during mealtimes, even when one is not currently hungry. It helps to maintain a more consistent eating, and also sleeping, schedule.”  
  
“... Right, Whatever you say, dude.”  
  
“I say this only because I have noticed that you seem fatigued. While this fatigue may be unusual for you, I have no way of knowing., it is still troublesome. A lack of sleep ca-” Logan then got cut off, much to his annoyance.  
“Virgil! There you are!” It was Thomas, with Dee and… someone Virgil didn't recognize in tow.  
  
He exchanged an uncomfortable grimace with Logan as the three others sat down. Too many people already. He was fine if Dee and maybe Thomas sat there, but not anyone else. It seemed Logan shared his discomfort with unknown people.  
“Sup,” he mumbled, playing with the zippers of his hoodie anxiously. He kept glancing at the other person whom had joined their midst anxiously, being careful not to stare. Didn’t want to repeat of this morning.He felt Logan’s eyes on him, but he decided not to make a big deal out of it.  
  
“Virgil, this is Joan, my bestest friend! Joan, this is Virgil, my other new foster brother, and Dee’s twin,” Thomas introduced.  
  
Joan stuck out their hand to greet Virgil properly. He hesitated momentarily before doing the same, and they shook hands briefly, but not briefly enough for Virgil’s tastes.  
  
“It’s nice to meet you Virgil!”  
  
“Oh, uh, yeah, likewise,” Virgil shrugged.  
  
The rest of lunch passed, with Virgil curling in on himself and occasionally contributing to the dreaded smalltalk that had settled over the group. He made it through the rest of classes without incident, mercifully. Finally, it was time to go home.  
  
Once he was out of the school building, Virgil could breathe a little easier. The three foster siblings spent a few moments looking for Patton’s car, before Thomas spotted it and directed them through the bustling traffic that plagued the school at 3:15 PM each week day.  
  
As they approached the car, Virgil felt another pang of panic. There was an adult he didn’t recognize. He was dressed rather formally, in white and red and gold. There was an air of authority about him that left a bitter taste on Virgil’s tongue. He immediately did not trust this man.  
  
“Hey kids!” Patton leaned forward a bit so they could see eachother past “the bad man,” as Virgil decided to label him in his head until he had a more suitable one. Seeing Patton calmed Virgil’s nerves little bit, but only just.  
“This is Roman, my boyfriend,” Patton introduced cheerfully.  
  
Roman gave the kids a small wave, a polished smile spreading on his face, “Hello, I am to assume you are the new foster children that my darling Patton had told me so much about?”  
  
Virgil was reminded eerily of the wicked stepmother from Cinderella. He hoped he was wrong, and he was just misjudging (as Dr. Picani so often insisted he did,) but, he knew from experience, a lot of the times, he wasn’t wrong.  
  
His anxiety only increased as he stepped into the back seat of the Jeep with Thomas and Dee. He looked over at Thomas and muttered, “have you met this guy before? I’m suspicious.”  
  
“Once, he seems pretty okay, though,” Thomas mumbled back.  
  
“Your fear is completely rational and you’re totally not overreacting,” Dee hissed.  
  
“Have I been wrong before?” He sent a glare Dee’s way.  
  
“You were right about Patton,” Dee countered triumphantly  
  
“That’s one time and besides, it’s still too early to tell-”  
  
“What are you kids whispering about back there?” Patton raised an eyebrow at them from the rearview mirror.  
  
“Nothing!” thomas squeaked a little too quickly. Virgil appreciated the effort to cover for them, but… Thomas was not good at lying.  
  
Roman hummed suspiciously, “they’re probably plotting against us, dearest. You know how foster kids are.”  
  
Virgil growled. What had this guy just said about them? He understood when people said that about him, he was most definitely probably plotting against people all the time, but about Dee and Thomas? Who did this guy think he was. He opened his mouth to go off on this absolute bastard, but surprisingly, Patton beat him too it.  
  
“Excuse me Roman,” Patton’s grip on the steering wheel tightened infinitesimally, “but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t generalize an entire group of people. All three of these kids are very sweet, and would _never, **ever**_ hurt us. And need I remind you that that group of people you just insulted includes myself as well.”  
  
Virgil blinked. Patton had been in foster care? That made Virgil trust him a little more. He had been in their situation. He knew how they must feel.  
  
“You know I didn’t mean you, my lo-”  
  
“Roman, please apologize to my three absolute angels, or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”  
  
The other man sighed. “Fine, I’m sorry, you three, I’m sure you’re great kids. It’s just that you give me the heebie-jeebies. Especially the two dressed in black.”  
  
“Thanks,” Virgil rolled his eyes.  
  
“Well aren’t you sweet,” Dee grumbled.  
  
“Roman, please, be nice,” Patton ground out through gritted teeth, before perking back up and changing the subject, “Anyway, we’re having fried chicken for dinner! WIth mac and cheese and corn!”  
  
Patton’s demeanor change kind of concerned Virgil. There was no way he changed moods that quickly. But, he supposed, he would wait to say something. No use bringing it up when trapped in the car. Instead, he opted to pet Dee’s hair comfortingly, as his twin brother had laid his head on Virgil’s shoulder anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry I really did;t mean to do Roman dirty like that he's not gonna be a villain I PROMISE


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for a bit of yelling, folks.

The only thing that could beard in the room was the clanking of utensils against plates and the horrible buzz of tension, and it was driving Virgil insane.

The tension had been there ever since the outburst in the car. Roman, sitting at the head of the table, opposite Patton (which made Virgil’s blood boil), was decidedly ignoring the way that they greying father figure was glaring at him. 

All of this tension, this not resolving problems, was making Virgil incredibly anxious. His chest was tight, and his breathing was falling just short of laboured. Dee had begun gradually scooting his chair closer to Virgil about thirty second in, and by now, their thighs were touching, and Virgil was doing his best to use his twin’s body heat to ground himself. 

He glanced at Dee once or twice, and every time, his anxiety worsened. Dee was starting to get visibly uncomfortable, and that usually meant trouble. Even Thomas had started shifting his seat uncomfortably. Virgil knew someone was gonna have to break the silence, and soon, before someone had a panic attack. He really didn’t want t have to be the one to do so, but with the way things were going, it was looking like he was gonna have to. 

That meant he had to come up with something to say, dammit. He looked around, and his eyes settled on the food. It was greasy, and probably very unhealthy, but it was delicious. Maybe he should tell Patton that? Yeah, that seemed like a good plan. Light smalltalk, ease into bigger conversation. Oh god. What if someone snapped at him for breaking the silence? What if it didn’t work and the tension was still there? What if he made it worse? The thought made his head spin. Was he sure that this was a good idea? 

Dee grabbed his arm, and whether that was an attempt at calming himself of Virgil, didn't quite matter at the moment. It did give the teen a bit of a boost of resolve to speak up and say something.

“I-uh,” all the eyes in the room snapped towards him, sending a wave of nausea over him. This was a bad idea, ”I really like the chicken, Patton.”

The way Patton’s face brightened warmly at that sent a flood of relief cascading through Virgil’s tension ridden being. So far, so good. 

“Why thank you Virgil!” He smiled warmly. 

Thomas let out an audible exhale, not completely calm, but not looking like he wanted to bolt out of the room. Virgil looked over at Dee, who was still gripping onto his arm. Dammit, he still looked nervous as fuck. Hm. Okay. Would it be rude if they just left in the middle of dinner? Probably, fuck. He glanced around. He could feel Dee start to shake next to him. He grabbed Dee’s other hand and started to breathe. In… out… Dee knew the drill. Match his breathing. In… out… Luckily, this seemed to be doing the trick, despite his twin’s vice like grip on his arm and hand. 

“You two are so attuned to each other, it’s fascinating,” Roman said, making Virgil jolt a little bit. He was facing away from Roman, so he hadn’t seen the man look up from his dinner. 

“I mean, they are twins,” Patton pointed out. 

By now, Dee’s grip on his limbs had loosened, so he turned to Roman, since that’s who seemed to be heading the conversation now.

“Are you identical or fraternal?”

“Identical,” Virgil explained, as the same time Dee spouted a quiet “fraternal.”

This just served to confuse Roman more, but Thomas interjected before He could voice this confusion. 

"Dee speaks in opposites,” he explained.

“Why?”

“Because that’s what makes him most comfortable,” Virgil sent a glare Roman’s way. He wasn't about to let this man make his brother feel bad and get away with it. 

“Virge, it’s not fine. I’m totally bothered,” Dee reassured, resting a yellow-gloved hand on Virgil’s shoulder, almost as a soft attempt to restrain his brother, which they both knew usually wasn’t necessary. Usually. 

“Sorry,” Roman apologized quickly, “I was just curious.”

“It’s not a coping mechanism,” Dee finally explained, quietly. 

“It’s not--- so… It is?” Roman looked at Virgil to make sure he was getting it.

At Virgil’s nod, Roman grinned. 

“All right. Opposites. I can deal with opposites. People at my theater speak in stranger ways,” he shrugged it off. 

“Stranger ways?” Thomas asked.

Virgil, admittedly, was a little curious too.

“Oh yeah,” he said, “We have a guy that, for almost two months straight, spoke exclusively in old English. Nobody knows why, even he didn’t know. My theory is that he was cursed!” He punctuated his sentence with a dramatic flare of his hands, which prompted Virgil to roll his eyes. 

“No wonder you work at a theatre,” Virgil quipped, “what do you do?”

“My dear boy, I am an actor, bringing to life the meaningless words on the page,” he narrated . 

“Don’t be careful, Virge totally isn’t a writer,” Dee purred from where he had brought his head to rest on his brother’s shoulder.

Roman seemed even more excited, somehow, “oh, a writer? What kind? Do you dabble in screenplays? Prance among the proverbial prairies of prose , or perhaps poetry is more your pot of tea?”

“... Proverbial?”

“It was the closest alliterative synonym shut up.”

“Thats fair. I mainly do poetry, by the way.”

“Fascinating,” Roman leaned forward on his elbows, “If you’re willing I’d love to hear some sometime?”

Virgil’s mouth twisted into a nervous frown. He didn’t share his poetry with anyone, not even Dee. 

“If not, that is fine. Sometimes art is not meant for the public eye, and we must respect that.” 

“... You sound like James Earl Jones.”

“I get that a lot, surprisingly.”

“Interesting.”

The rest of dinner went relatively smoothly, now that some conversation had started up.It mainly shifted to Patton and Roman chattering happily, with occasional interjection from one of the three teens. After dinner, Virgil cleared their plates, despite protests from Patton that “it was fine, I got it kiddo!” He wanted to help, if just to let Patton know in his own small way for how grateful he was for the man’s kindness. 

Roman wandered into the kitchen as he was washing the dishes. 

“You wash, I dry?” he offered.

“Thanks, but I got it,” Virgil shrugged it off.

“Aw come on,” the older of the two whined, “I need to make up for what I said earlier.”

“It’s fine,” Virgil insisted, scrubbing a bit harder.

Roman’s gaze lingered on the boy for a few uncomfortable seconds.

“Are you sure?” Roman leaned on the nice marble counters and crossed his arms, a slight frown pulling at his face. 

“Yes,” he bit out, a little too quickly. 

“Dude, if you’re mad at me, just tell m-”

“YES. I’M MAD! I'M MAD BECAUSE YOU COME IN TO THE CLOSEST THING TO A SAFE HOME I’VE HAD AND IN THE FIRST TEN MINUTES OF MEETING YOU, YOU MANAGE TO INSULT NOT ONLY BOTH ME AND MY TWIN BROTHER, BUT MY FOSTER SIBLING AND THE NICEST GOD DAMN FOSTER FATHER I’VE EVER MET, AND THEN YOU ACT LIKE IT’S NOT BIG FUCKING DEAL AND YOU CAN MAKE UP FOR IT BY DRYING SOME DISHES WHEN YOU ALMOST GAVE THREE TRAUMATIZED CHILDREN PANIC ATTACKS!” 

Virgil slammed a damp hand over his mouth. Fuck. He didn’t mean to snap like that, but he had been a little tense all evening. Waves of guilt, or was that nausea, washed over him. He could barely see Roman’s face contorted in shock and a little bit of fear as tears pricked at his eyes. God, he had fucked up. He had to leave. He bolted out of the kitchen, ignoring the few weak, “Virgil, waits”s. He bounded up the stairs, stumbling a few times. He never unclamped his hand from his mouth once. He threw open the door to his and Dee’s shared room, reaching under his bed for the suitcase that he kept half his clothes packed in, just in case he did something stupid like this and had to make a break for it. He couldn't believe he had screwed this one up. Well, yes he could, but he really didn’t want to. Did he really have to run away? Maybe Patton would understand that he was upset, that he really didn't mean to yell at Roman like that. No. Patton was going to hate him for this, he knew it. He had turned himself into the bad guy once again. He wasn't upset about it though. He was just tired of it. If a few tears had started rolling down his cheeks, well, nobody had to know.

Virgil was so busy crying and making sure he had everything he needed that he hadn’t noticed the man who had crept up the stairs, quiet as a mouse, and was now stood in his doorway, a funny look on his face. A face of familiarity. 

“Virgil,” Patton said softly, and the sudden sound of his name sent Virgil Jerking backwards, back against the nightstand. Oh shit, what now?


	5. Chapter 4

Patton walked into the room, stepping carefully. Virgil put his hands crossed up against his face. He didn’t want more visible bruises than he needed. He wished he hadn’t fucked up like this. Patton was the nicest foster parent he’d ever had, and now he’d gone and ruined that too, for him and probably Dee. It bothered him more that he had ruined that for Dee. Dee deserved this happy life, with this idyllic family. 

“Virgil, breathe, kiddo, breathe,” Patton crouched down to where Virgil had curled in on himself reflexively, patient eyes trained on him. 

Virgil blinked. Patton didn’t sound mad. Patton wasn’t yelling at him. Why wasn’t Patton yelling at him? He looked up slowly, confusion swimming in his tired eyes. 

“There you go. See? You’re okay.” Patton coaxed, a small, encouraging smile pulling at his face. 

This was weird. Virgil was even more nervous. Patton was being nice to him, even though he had snapped at his boyfriend. 

“Why are you being nice to me?” He decided to voice these concerns. 

Patton’s smile dropped a little bit. That look of familiarity returned. Patton recognized this situation, and that made Virgil a little more anxious. Had there been other kids who did this same thing? 

“Kiddo, I’m not mad. Yes, you should watch your language, but your anger is justified. Roman said something that hurt you and people you care about, and he didn’t apologize enough to make it up to you. I get that. I’m not mad at you for getting angry. We all get angry sometimes. And we can learn to control that anger, to use it for more productive things. Okay, today was a bad day, but that doesn’t mean we can’t learn from it. Tom-”

“Don’t give me that bullshit about Tomorrow is a new day. I get it enough from Picani. I know tomorrow is a new day. But a new day doesn’t always mean a new beginning. Sometimes it just means you’re gonna have to deal with the same shitty situation for another day, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because no matter how much you wish it wouldn’t, the sun still comes up, and you still have to face whatever shit life has in store for you that day. And I’m tired of tomorrow's, because you don't know what’s gonna happen tomorrow. At least I know what shitty situation I’m in today.” 

Patton was silent for a few seconds. And he let out a laugh. “Touche. Just know that I’m here for you, kiddo, to help you face whatever life decides to throw at you tomorrow, okay? You and Dee don’t have to go it alone anymore.”

Those words struck a chord in him. He and Dee had always been on their own. And now this man, who he had known for about a total of a week, was telling him that that was no longer the case. He doubted it deeply, but he didn’t tell Patton that. 

Patton let out a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“ When you’re ready, come back down. I made those cookies you like, and we can play Just Dance. Family bonding time,” and with that, Patton stood up and walked out of the room, leaving Virgil alone once again. 

Virgil closed his suitcase once again, and shoved it under his bag, still half-packed, because he could never be too careful. He always kept one under his bed for Dee as well, just in case. But the suitcases would stay under the bed for now. Virgil sat on the bed for a few minutes, gathering himself, feeling the comforter underneath him. Did he really want to go back down there? Where Roman was? He supposed he would have to reconcile with the man eventually, but he was still mad. He scowled at himself. Why was this such a tough decision for him? Just go downstairs and grin and bear it. 

He took a deep breath. He could do this. He didn’t want Patton or Dee to be disappointed that he wasn’t coming down. He crept down the stairs as quietly as he could, despite there being no real point to that. The rich scent of buttery cinnamon cookies sent a calm fuzz over his brain. It smelled like safety. When Patton spotted Virgil, he beamed. 

“Glad to see you could join us kiddo!” He held out the tray of freshly baked cinnamon cookies as Virgil reached the living room. The teen grabbed one, letting the warmth leech into his hands, taking a bite and feeling better almost immediately. Cinnamon cookies were like a cure-all. 

Patton set the tray of cookies on the table precariously, moving towards the TV, “eat up, kiddos, I’m gonna get just dance set up.”

He walked around the table, kneeling down to set up the game system as Virgil munched on another cookie. He felt safe enough to sit down, and familiar weight followed him onto the couch not long after. That same weight snatched the cookie he was about to take a bite out of right from his hands. 

“Heeyyyy,” he whined, looking over at Dee who now took a bite out of his cookie. 

“Totally can’t see why you like these so much, bro,” he teased, taking another bite out of the treat before he ever so graciously handed it back to his brother, who quickly transferred the cookie to the hand that was farther away from his twin, thank you. 

They sat like this as Patton set the game up, and once it was done, Virgil’s _favourite_ person walked in, with a can of rootbeer in his hand, other dramatically pointing at Virgil, “I dare you to a dancing duel, one to determine who the top-drawer dancer of this darling dwelling is!”

“How many times did you have to check the thesaurus to come up with that one?” Virgil leaned back on the soft white sofa casually, eyebrow parked in challenge. 

“Zero, my chemically imbalanced romance, I am an alliterative artisan, adept at my art, able to adapt to any affair almost abruptly.”

“Abruptly?”

“Yeah, not my best, but I’m trying here,” his manicured hand moved to the back of his neck, shrugging. 

“Just dance is ready!” Patton called out. Virgil and Roman made eye contact for a few tense seconds before they both scrambled for Wii remotes. 


	6. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violence nd murder - this ones a doozie folks

The rest of the night went relatively smoothly. Virgil had a secret talent for just dance (Dr. Picani made him play it a lot to blow off steam) so it came to the surprise of everyone but him and his less active brother when he completely steamrolled Roman, moving his body to the familiar music almost casually. Once they were done playing for the night and Roman had retreated to his and Patton’s bedroom to sulk in peace, the three teens made their way to their respective bedrooms as well, and everything was uneventful until morning. 

Virgil awoke to the sound of electro swing filling their room. He pried his eyes open, and through the sleepy blur, he saw Dee dancing around the barely-lit room happily. He recognized the song, one of Dee’s favourites. Posin’, he was pretty sure it was called. From- Peggy Suave? He wasn't sure, Dee was a lot more into that kinda music than he was. It was too upbeat for him. A roll to his other side to glance at the clock told him that it was 5:30 in the morning. Why the hell was Dee awake this early?

He sat up and saw that Dee also had one of his favourite outfits on. A black waistcoat with a white shirt and yellow cummerbund.

”Dee, you okay dude?” Virgil rubbed at his eyes tiredly. 

Dee looked a little startled, eyes blowing wide when he realized that Virgil was awake. 

“Not sorry, I thought the music was loud enough to wake you,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I’m just a light sleeper. Anyway, what’s wrong dude, you only do this when you’re upset,” he sat up, turning on the lamp on his bedside table. 

Dee sighed, visibly deflating and making Virgil a little nervous. He didn’t like it when it when Dee was unhappy. He was usually the one freaking out, and he preferred it that way.

“I didn’t have a nightmare,” Dee admitted, and Virgil’s pulse quickened. Dee tended to have nightmares less often than Virgil, but when he did, they were bad. 

“What happened?” he said, making grabby hands towards his brother, who flopped on his bed and curled up against him. 

“It wasn't about what you must have seen when… you don’t know.”

“When dad killed mom?” he looked down at his brother, who shook his head weakly. 

Virgil sighed,  had seen that, and he had made damn sure that Dee didn;t see the body. He didn't want his brother to be traumatized. They were only ten when that happened, and it had fucked both of them up before the foster homes could. The memory of it was still burned into Virgil’s brain. 

\---

_ Virgil crept out of the bed with the cream colored sheets, being careful not to disturb his sleeping twin. He wanted a glass of water. He slipped out of the bedroom, Jack skellington pajama bottoms almost making him trip, but he caught himself on the dusty doorframe.  _

_ He crept down the hall, stopping when he heard voices. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the reflection of his parents in the pantry doors. _

_ “Darling, please, I think you might be overreacting a little bit. If you could just calm do-” _

_ “Don’t you fucking tell me to calm down, Delilah. Those children are soul sucking leeches, and they’re the reason I can’t afford to give you the world!” The father of the Mallory twins, a petite man named Vincent, brandished a butcher’s knife in his hands, which he had made clear was intended to take the life of Virgil and his brother. Virgil was watching this all unfold , hiding in the hallway as their mom, a large, soft woman, did her best to calm her napoleonic husband down.  _

_ “Vincent, ple-” _

_ “No! Stop telling me not to do this!” the shorter man screeched, before his fis face grew soft, “Delilah, honey, I know you’re attached to them, but this is going to be good for us. We were so much happier before they came along. I just want us to be happy,” he reached up towards her face tenderly, but she smacked his hand away. _

_ “Ten years,” she said, a type of anger in her voice that Virgil had never heard before. “I raised these kids for ten years, and now you want to take them away from me? Vincent, I love those kids more than I love myself. I’m not letting you do this. Now, give me the knife.” _

_ Silence hung in the air thickly, like a tendon about to snap. Vincent took in a deep breath.  _

_ “Fine. You want the knife? Here it is.” he gripped the knife and plunged it into Delilah’s stomach, eliciting a scream from her lips. He stabbed, stabbed again, and Virgil was frozen in shock, the blood staining his mother’s white dress burning into his eyes. He only moved when he heard Dee’s footsteps behind him, and then his only thought was that Dee could not see what was happening. He turned around, walking towards him and quickly pushing him back into the bedroom. _

\---

Dee rested his head against Virgil’s shoulder, and the latter twin felt a few tears falls onto his shirt. He held Dee close, rubbing his back. He didn't want Dee to hurt, but sometimes, he guessed it was unavoidable. He was going to be there for him on the bad days, though.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil interacts with new people wow

The two of them sat there like that until Virgil’s alarm for waking up for school went off. Dee opted to stay in his favourite outfit for the day, and Virgil just threw on a black t-shirt and purple jeans. They were out the door and to school pretty uneventfully, the events of last night and this morning not being mentioned once by any of them.

When Virgil got to school, he was a little reluctant to actually go to class. He was tired, both physically and emotionally, and he didn’t at all want to work on poetry at all. Would it be worth it to ditch first period? They’d probably call Patton, and then he’d have… whatever Patton’s reaction would be to deal with, and he wasn’t sure he had the energy to deal with that later on.

He was pulled out of his thought process by a tentative tap on his shoulder. After a bit of a jump, he looked over to see who had wanted his attention. Glasses, stupid tie. Oh, it was Logan. His eyes were narrowed slightly, his head tilted a little bit. 

“Virgil, you stopped in the middle of the hallway, is something the matter?” He inquired. 

Virgil looked around. Oh, he was in the middle of the hallway, wasn’t he? Jesus he was a mess. 

“Didn’t notice. Must have spaced out,” he mumbled, beginning to move forward again, shoving his hands in his pockets. He really wished he could curl in on himself right now.

“Virgil, normally I would not pry like this,” the taller of the two pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he spoke, “but you look incredibly exhausted and I am a tad concerned. Are you alright?”

The question caught Virgil off guard. Nobody usually asked that. 

“Yeah, I’m Gucci,” he shrugged it off, almost laughing when he saw Logan’s face of concern morph into one of quiet confusion. 

“You are… Gucci?”

“Wait, do you not know what that means?” There was a tinge of amusement in Virgil’s voice that caused Logan to frown. 

“I was almost entirely sure it was a high-end designer brand. Was I incorrect in this presumption?” Logan tilted his head in a way that was… oddly cute. Virgil shrugged that last thought off. 

“I mean, yeah, but it also kinda means good or great, or- fine? It’s not that easy to explain.” 

Logan sighed. “Ugh, is this another slang term?”

Virgil nodded. 

“Why are there so many! Slow down, modern language, I am just one man and I can only buy so many packs of index cards from Walgreens before I go broke,” the taller boy procured a stack of notecards, seemingly from nowhere, and flipped through the stack to find a blank one, writing down Gucci on one side and the definition on the other. 

They walked into the classroom, sittin at the desks in the back corner once again. It was a very chill class, they spent most of it just finishing the odes. He caught Logn glancing at his paper once or twice, and rolled his eyes to himself. 

“If you wanna know what mine is about, just ask, Lo.”

Logan froze, looking down at his own paper guiltily for a second or so. “I just wanted to see if you were having a hard of a time with this as I was.”

Virgil frowned. 

“Sorry, this is the one thing I’m decent at.”

Logan sighed, 

“I’m good at everything else, and I love poetry, but I’m only good at writing slam poetry. It’s upsetting,”

Virgil hummed, studying Logan’s face. “Well, you can’t be good at everything, specs.” He pointed out.

“I… suppose you're right,” Logan huffed, before waving it off, “also, you never told me what was wrong earlier.” 

Virgil rolled his eyes, fighting to keep the panic that was clawing at his insides show on the surface. He was hoping Logan had forgotten. 

“It’s nothing, I’m just tired, is all.” Virgil shrugged the question off. He didn't care. He didn't care. He didn't care. The words repeated in his head like a mantra.

Logan looked at him, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Virgil chewed the inside of his lip, struggling to maintain eye contact with the other boy. 

“Am I not at a high enough ‘friend level’ to get the full…” he flipped through some note cards that once again just seemed to appear, “tea?” 

“... That sure was a string if words that just came out of your mouth right then.” 

“It's something my friend Taz says. He tells me it's “hip” or something,” Logan looked a little lost as he explained, and perhaps a little embarrassed, judging from the reddening on the tips of his ears.

“You don't have to try to sound cool around me, you know? Just be your nerdy self, Logan.” 

Logan blinked. He looked surprised, which, on some level, was a bit heartbreaking to Virgil. He looked like he had never been told that before. 

“Right, yeah, okay, be myself. I can do that,” Logan said quietly, before turning back to Virgil.

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“Okay, Logan, I met you yesterday, dude. I’m not gonna spill everything when I barely know you.” 

“I suppose you have a point there.” 

 

Once writing was over, unfortunately, Virgol went through the rest of his classes before lunch as quietly as possible, talking to no one and praying no one talked to him. Of course, it seemed that God was once again out to get him, because in the period right before lunch, Biology, the person next to him decided to start talking to him during their lab. 

“So, I don’t think I’ve seen you before yesterday,” person, squirrelly haired man named Taz (perhaps Logan's friend, his brain supplied,) stated while mashing a strawberry in a plastic bag.

“That's because you haven't.”

“You just move here?” 

“Yep.”

“Well, welcome! Are you liking it so far.”

“It's okay.”

“Just okay?” Taz stopped smashing to put a hand over his chest delicately, offended for his school's sake. 

Whatever half assed reply Virgil prepared was cut off by a resounding  _ boom _ from somewhere else in the school. All 23 of the students in the room looked up in unison. What the fuck was that? They didn't have time ask though, due to the blaring bell of the fire alarm going off. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was probably just a freshman blowing something up in the microwave


	8. Chapter 7

The school was evacuated quickly, and Virgil stood in the crowd of boisterous teens, hands shoved in his pockets. Near-transparent smoke rose from the end of the building opposite the end Virgil had been in. So there was some sort of actual fire. That left a sinking feeling in his gut, and he found his mind wandering to his brother, to Thomas, to Logan. He found himself scanning the hordes of teens and teachers, looking for their familiar faces. He found Logan first, who was actually walking towards him.

“Do you know what happened?” Virgil asked once Logan was within earshot. 

“I think it was an accident… involving some sort of warm beverage? I’ve only managed to gather bits and pieces of the story, although I know something blew up, and then proceeded to set something on fire, clearly,” he gestured to the pillar of smoke. 

“Well that's not at all weird. Anyway, did you happen to see Thomas or Dee on your way over here?” he silently prayed that Logan had seen both and he was worrying for nothing. 

“Thomas and Dee…” Logan’s face twisted for a second as he tried to remember who Virgil was referring to, “Dee is the one that looks like you, right?”

“Yes, he’s my twin. Thomas is the one who wears the brightly colored t-shirts.”

“Uh, I think i might have seen Thomas. I haven't seen your twin, though.” 

Virgil’s frown deepened, that subtle sense of dread further twisting up his insides. Something was wrong. His brain screamed. Dee should have found you by now. He's hurt, or he’s dead, or something far far worse than you could ever imagine. He-

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of Logan's voice. 

“Virgil, you’re hyperventilating. Please try to match my breathing. May I put my hand your shoulder? I’m not sure if social rules dictate that appropriate to the situation.” 

Virgil looked up at Logan, who had a hand raised hesitantly towards Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Go…. Go for it.” He focused on the rise and fall of Logan's chest, trying to sync his breathing to the steady motion. The hand on his shoulder was gentle, but he felt it enough to focus on the pressure. Focus on the neutral, Picani’s voice rang in his brain, maybe Dee is fine. 

Eventually, his erratic breathing slowed. 

“Okay, good, I was worried,” Logan said, “are you feeling better?”

“A little bit? My chest still feels like it's being crushed with an anvil but I can breathe like a human now so, progress or whatever.” 

“... I am still very concerned about you.”

“You and everyone else I know.”

Logan sighed, running a hand through his hair “Okay, cool, I’m not alone in that. Good to know. Maybe we should go look for your brother.” 

“Yeah. Yeah that’d help,” Virgil nodded determinedly. 

The two wandered among the crowd, looking for Dee and avoiding teachers who told them to go back to their groups. The longer they looked, the more Logan glanced back at Virgil, and the more the dread consumed the shorter of the two. By the five minute mark, it clawed at his insides like a rabid animal, and he found himself breathing quickly again, which the ever-observant Logan noticed in an instant. 

“Hey, just because we have yet to find him, does not mean he is not here. There are a lot of people. We very well could have missed him,” Logan tried to reassure, but Virgil looked in his eyes and saw fear there, and he knew Logan would not have missed him if they passed him. 

Virgil fought back tears. He was scared now, that dread in his stomach blossoming into fear, into panic that clawed its way up his esophagus, burning at his throat and face. He found himself on the pavement, suddenly, knees drawing up to his chest as he vaguely registered Logan’s silhouette dropping down to his level. 

“Virgil, I understand you are upset, but I need you to breathe. Can you breathe for me?”

Virgil struggled to calm his breathing, but only managed a few panicked gasps for air. 

“Okay.. right, not helping… um, fuck, shit, what was that thing Taz taught me….” Logan muttered to himself. 

“Virgil!”

Thomas rushed over to Virgil, kneeling on the pavement next to him

“Virge, dude, breathe in, four seconds. 1, 2, 3, 4.” Thomas urged, and Virgil did his best to breathe in as Thomas instructed, hoping his lungs were cooperating now.

“Good. Now hold it for seven,” Thomas counted to seven, and Virgil could feel the air pressing against his cheeks. He focused on that feeling. 

“Alright, almost through the first one. Breathe out for eight,” his foster brother continued to count out eight counts, and Virgil released the breath he had been holding, letting that little bit of lightheadedness take over his brain as he exhaled more oxygen than he had taken in. He repeated the breathing a few more times, eventually being calm enough to regain his composure.

“You good, dude?” 

Virgil nodded.

“Yeah, yeah im- im good. I guess,” he sighed, “you- you haven't seen Dee around anywhere, have you?” 

He hated the way the last part came out squeaky and shaky. He didn't want to sound as scared as he was, but, here he found himself, most definitely sounding as scared as he was. 

Thomas frowned, and shook his head, and it took all of Virgil’s strength not have another breakdown. It seemed almost a guarantee that Dee was hurt, or worse. Virgil didn’t want to think about the worse. He refused to. He had to keep it together. 

A person approached the trio, who Virgil was pretty sure he recognized as the counselor. They had a concerned look on their face. 

“Are you Virgil Mallory?” he asked once he was within speaking distance.

Virgil only nodded. 

“Oh, well, um, the firefighters just got him out of the building. I’ve heard he’s pretty bad, and they are taking him to the hospital right now. Your… Dad… is coming to pick you and your uh- brother, up.”

“... Okay. Thanks.” 

He pulled in a shaky breath, and Thomas frowned. 

“Damn, I’m sorry to hear that, Virge.”

“Likewise. Do you need comforting? I am aware that I am… less than perfect at it, but I can attempt to be of some comfort?” Logan offered awkwardly. 

Virgil glanced at him, tears blurring the edges of his silhouette just enough that his usual sharpness was made soft. It sent something through his heart that he didn't quite have the energy to address, given the circumstances. 

"Can I hug you?"

“If it will make you feel better, then I suppose I would not be adver-”

Logan didn’t even get to finish the sentence before he was nearly knocked over by the force of Virgil’s hug, though luckily for both of them, he did manage to keep his balance. Virgil was clinging to him, and if he was getting some tears in Logan’s shirt, Logan wasn't saying anything, which he was grateful for. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. 

“... Of course.”


End file.
